


Paired for Life

by Erisabesu (ErisabesuFic)



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: 3380, 8033, Humor, M/M, Romance, RyoYama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-23 18:44:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21086051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErisabesuFic/pseuds/Erisabesu
Summary: “In most ways, Ryohei’s most trusted partner is his left hand.”  [2009.12.14]





	Paired for Life

****

In most ways, Ryohei’s most trusted partner is his left hand. It wakes him up first thing in the morning, reaching down between his legs and relieving all built-up stress in record time so that nothing can interfere with his training schedule. His left hand always knows what he needs for the ultimate satisfaction, and for daily practice there is nothing better. Ryohei eats with his left hand, cheers on his friends with his left hand thrust high in the air, hugs Kyoko in brotherly affection with his left hand.

His right hand? _That’s_ for Yamamoto. He learned it first from Colonello: the right hand is for special occasions, protected in top condition for the most meaningful experiences when his precious people need it the most.

Like when Yamamoto hits the winning grand slam, Ryohei meets him in the locker room for their private, ritual celebration once everyone else has gone home. Ryohei grins and puts his right hand down the front of Yamamoto’s sweaty uniform while Yamamoto grins and does the same for him, although they usually aren’t grinning by the end because it feels too good, their hard muscled bodies pressing together amid the smells of baseball gear and hot competition. Sometimes they stand against the cool tile of the showers, and sometimes they use the bench, which Ryohei likes better because Yamamoto doesn’t seem so much taller that way. But it doesn’t really matter, since the feelings they have are the same—feelings only a true athlete can understand.

When Ryohei wins a boxing match Yamamoto is there for him in the same way. The boxing club’s changing room is stuffy and smells of testosterone and a hint of blood, but Yamamoto doesn’t ever complain, grinning as Ryohei backs him into the wall by the extra sandbag and grinds their hips together in prelude. Sometimes Ryohei takes the time to unwind the bandages from his hand first, other times Yamamoto wants him to keep them on, just how Ryohei occasionally enjoys Yamamoto’s batting glove. After the rush of a win, Yamamoto’s right hand is exactly what Ryohei wants most, that and the rush of those first kisses—serious and intense liplocking that never fails to make him dizzy. Alright, sometimes his face is too beat up for kissing, like loose teeth and cuts and stuff, which totally sucks, or like if Yamamoto strained his wrist in batting practice, that really sucks too. But the rainchecks are just as good, sneaking into each other’s rooms or meeting behind school late at night as long as Hibari doesn’t catch them, though running away from Hibari is also a kind of weird rush Ryohei enjoys to the extreme. Yamamoto never minds these kinds of risks either, and more and more Ryohei feels that despite their different sports, he and Yamamoto are exactly the same.

They _need_ these rituals. Because this sort of thing is how they say:

_Congratulations. You’ve worked hard. I’m proud of you—here’s your reward._

No one can win all the time, however. Both he and Yamamoto have to deal with loss, it’s all part of the package. Losing means they’ll have to wait and suffer until the next match, their right hands used only for a consolation handshake. But that’s what keeps them working at such a high level. This way is the best to motivate each other and keep their feelings in synch.

Ryohei sees Yamamoto in the early mornings, their running paths crossing at the same point every time just before dawn. They run towards each other for six blocks, eyes locked, muscles warm and thrumming under their jogging suits as their feet hit the pavement. When they meet they don’t stop, but they do put out their right hands and bump knuckles as they pass:

_Keep it up. You can do it. We’re in this together. This is our path to victory._

With Yamamoto at his side, Ryohei can achieve anything. He’s got the fist of a Champion. The heart of a winner. And most importantly a bond between men that surpasses the maximum level.

—

Ω


End file.
